Tales of the Broken Lemniscate: Independence
by Dolfin
Summary: A pair of broken war comrades desire to change their past allows a young woman to shape the future of her world. She may be unable to stem the tide of war, but she is damn sure to try to protect her own!
1. Chapter 1: Old Friends

Tales of the Broken Lemniscate

Independence

 _Notes and Such:_

 _This section originally referenced some of my overly ambitious plans about alternative story-lines I had sketched out. I might still do them, but I am going to finish this one first.  
_

 _I do not own Harry Potter. It is my belief that this type of fandom engagement has been approved by the IP holders. However, should the IP holders wish it, I will remove it._

 _The only place this has been distributed is fanfiction. If you see it anywhere else, shame!_

 _Special Thanks to BrightSkywalker, who beta read this for me. Found a bunch of issues! Thanks so much!_

Chapter 1: Old Friends

The street of Privet Drive had a certain old-timeliness to it. It was as if the entire street had been under a stasis charm for the last few decades. Of course, there was nothing at all magical about this street. It was, and always had been, an example of normalcy and no-nonsense for as long as most of its residents could remember. If certain advances of the previous two decades had passed the street by, that was perfectly fine by those who lived there. Beyond certain ritual street maintenance and the occasional sign upgrade, the township had, for its own reasons, decided this was a street best left alone. The upgraded street lamps, house remodels and rebuilding that was common in so much of the country had not managed to crack Privet Drive's long-standing stubborn facade.

The Witch looked down the street. It was not the sort of place you expected to find the most powerful wizard of the age. That was likely why he resided here. She surveyed the street, taking in as much about it as she could, before proceeding. There were wards of course. Nothing anyone would notice if simply passing by, but she knew what she was looking for. They ignored her, as she expected. There was a long-standing invitation for her to visit. She had never before acted upon it, but their creator was thorough, and had taken into account the possibility that she would.

The Witch headed down the street to Number Four, Privet Drive. Like much of the street, it had not changed in the many years since a young wizard had called it home. There were more wards, but none like you would see on a regular Wizarding residence. These were much more subtle, more focused on alerting their master to an intrusion than blocking one entirely. She supposed the most powerful wizard of his age didn't need to hold out for help, and instead could rely simply on a bit of advanced warning.

She had never come to visit after he moved in. It just seemed wrong to chase him after he had quite pointedly left the magical world. She still met with him of course, bi-weekly for lunch at restaurants around the area, to reminiscence about the past or catch up on recent happenings. Still, she never came to visit. Her very presence would bring much of the magical world he had spent such an effort to flee from right into his very home.

It always pained her to think of him living here. She knew of his history with the place, and it always baffled her why he would ever want any association with it again. But the world moved in strange ways, and she supposed he had found a sort of peace here after he had fled. As she stared at the house, she wondered if there had been some way she could've helped him. Something she could've said or done to convince him to not withdraw. To keep him from this horrible house and its horrible past. He had withdrawn there after the death of his best friend and the collapse of his job in the government. Could she have stopped it? But she too had also been reeling from the loss, and then they were both gone.

At one time the Witch had been a healer, but that hadn't lasted long after the death of her husband. She was a natural born provocateur, latching herself to one cause or another, and pouring her very soul into it. She had attempted her hand in politics after she left the medical community. Still, the Wizarding community was hard on her ideals, and she found herself missing her husband and best friend by her side. She had always hoped that he would return with her after one of their many talks. She knew he would do it in a second if she asked, but that wasn't something she was willing to do. She would update him on whatever important cause she was working on, always hoping he would decide that this time, he would return to her side and help her fight it.

The Wizard never did. He would always listen carefully, and give his thoughts and feedback. It was clear, however, that he wanted nothing to do with the world in which she lived. The Witch couldn't blame him. He had earned the right to leave, and many times she wished she had been able to join him. However, it wasn't in her character to give up on any cause, even one as horribly lost as was the political situation in Wizarding Britain.

Briefly she held onto the forlorn hope that her visit here today wouldn't shatter the fragile peace the Wizard had built for himself. She knew that wasn't realistic, but she held onto it as if it was the very last piece of chocolate in the entire world. She finally found a situation she needed his help to bring to conclusion, but she knew if she thought on it too long she wouldn't be able to tell him. The Wizard wouldn't see it that way, of course, but she would never forgive herself if she was responsible for dragging him back into the world he had spent so long trying to remove himself from.

Still, this isn't something she was able to do without him. Steeling her resolve, she knocked on the door of Number 4, Privet Drive. It wasn't strictly necessary of course. He had known she was here the moment she stepped onto the street. He had probably known the moment she had apparated in a park several blocks away. Still, there were appearances to keep up. If it gave him some level of comfort, she would humor his desires.

After an agonizing wait, the door of Number Four, Privet Drive cracked open. The green eyes of the most powerful wizard of the age stared right through the Witch's very soul.

"Well", he said, after looking her up and down, "I didn't think you would ever take me up on my invitation". The statement hung in the air, as if she had somehow both disappointed him and behaved exactly as he expected.

"Hello Harry", said the Witch. "I have something I wished to talk to you about".

"Of course Hermione", Harry said, opening the door wide. "But we talked just last week. And we were going to have lunch at Robin's next week." Harry beckoned her into his house. "Something that couldn't wait?"

"I'm afraid it is a bit private" Hermione said, placing her coat on a very large coat-rack at near the door. Staring at him intently, she asked "Can you ensure that we will not be overheard?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and then he started muttering to himself. Hermione saw no sign of his wand, but that was to be expected. She knew how just holding that wand reminded him of how many people he had killed, and he was perfectly capable of casting the spells needed for their conversation without it.

Harry led her to the kitchen. It was a perfect example of 1990's English Muggle design. In here, you could almost forget that most of the appliances, much less the overall look, had gone out of style decades ago. He was muttering spells under his breath. Hermione looked at her feet, unsure if she should interrupt him.

When she looked up, there were two steaming cups of cocoa on the table in front of her. Harry gestured for her to sit. "Not even the angels would be able to overhear us now." he said, cocking his head at her. "So 'Mione, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

* * *

The wizard in the kitchen had many titles. He had been called the 'Vanquisher of the Dark Lord', the 'Most Promising New Auror' and even 'The Most Powerful Wizard of an Age'. But before all of those, he had been known as 'The Boy Who Lived'. He didn't put much stock in those titles. Being known as 'The Boy Who Lived' had haunted him through his younger years.

It was supposed to get better after he graduated. He was going to show people that he was more than just the legend. In the Auror corps, he would be able to use his defense against the dark arts skills to an end beyond the fall of the dark lord. A little auror, chasing down kids who dabbled in magic they were not supposed to dabble in. No more saving the world. No more prophecies.

No more dreams.

It didn't work out that way. He was the 'Vanquisher of the Dark Lord'. There was no way the powers that be would let him live a normal life.

And the dreams. They still came. And they were worse.

 _The cry in the night._ "Lily, Take Harry and go!". _The crying. The blinding green light._

It had never truly left him. It was now joined by others. _The look on Sirius's face as he was pushed through the veil. The mangled body of Lavender Brown. The endless rows and rows of unnamed muggles. Dying without even knowing they were in a warzone, any survivors denied even the ability to remember how their comrades died._

Harry gave himself a mental shake. It didn't do to dwell. Anyway, for some reason living in this hellish house helped quiet the dreams. That and living away from the Wizarding world, where there was a reminder of what was lost around every corner.

Harry looked at the Witch in his kitchen. She seemed uncertain, a look he had only very rarely seen on her face. True, it had been a while since she had come to him with a true heart-to-heart. Most of these meetings were simple pleasantries and keeping up. The last time they had talked, really talked was after Ron died. Harry shivered. He supposed it was part of the reason they had avoided such talks. It was hard to imagine him and Hermione sitting bearing their souls without him. Or rather, any such conversation would inevitably have his ghost sitting over their shoulders.

Still, he remembered Hermione. She generally didn't hesitate in such talks. Usually it was more of a 'dive straight in with lots of numbers and figures' and he had to back her down. Force her to explain at a speed that normal minds could follow. Something was holding her back. Since she wasn't volunteering, Harry decided to prompt her.

"I don't recall you being this hesitant." Harry gave her a look. "Uncomfortable topic? I thought after that lecture on House Elf anatomy there was no topic you would be bashful about tackling.".

Now it was Hermione's turn to give him a look. "No no, its nothing like that," she said. "It's just well... You used to be an Auror Harry". A _hh,_ Harry thought. _Something illegal then. Or at least on the grey side of the law._

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. "I have been your friend a lot longer than I was an Auror Hermione. You can talk to me."

Hermione looked totally unconvinced. A ripple of something... concern?... washed over her face. _Of course_ , Harry thought, _She is worried what kind of trouble this will get me into._

Tightening his grip on her hand, Harry poised her a question: "Hermione, is this about something you were working on back when I was still an Auror?"

Hermione paused a minute, lost in thought. Harry suspected she could of answered the question either way, but he waited patiently while she came to her answer. Finally, she nodded to the negative.

"Then it is nothing to be concerned about. I'm only obligated to follow up on crimes that happened while I was serving. The department doesn't want any Aurors running off to join some criminal scheme they were monitoring, but they also don't want anyone playing vigilante after retiring". Harry snorted. "Not that those very same retired Aurors didn't save their asses back in the war".

Hermione looked at him for a moment. A long moment. Then suddenly, it was as if the floodgates had been broken and it all came running out in a rush.

"Oh Harry, I have this concept I've been working on and I've gotten to the point I need to decide if I want to keep at it. I don't really have anyone I could share this with besides you since Ron... and it's so delicate. I must've thought I was giving it up a dozen times before coming back to it. You know, work at the St. Mungo's wasn't exactly stimulating and it kind of became a pet project. It was a research project to come back to whenever was happening at the Hospital or at the Ministry. Its getting to the point of becoming more than that now, and I don't know if it should. If I want it to. Should I want it to? It's so dangerous, but the potential payoff... I just couldn't make this decision by myself. So you. You always seem to know if we should charge into the darkness or not and I..."

She got through it all without seeming to take a breath. There was the Hermione Harry knew. Still, it looked like she was going to go on like that for a while and Harry wasn't any closer to understanding what the problem was. Harry put his hand up, and Hermione's voice died off.

"Damn I have missed your rants Hermione. It really brings me back. But I'm not understanding anything you are saying. Take a deep breath." Harry paused while she followed his instructions. "Take your time. Think. What is it that that you need to ask me?" Harry pulled away and watched as she composed her thoughts.

Hermione gathered herself up. She had a slight fear in her eyes. Like Harry might bite her. However, there was also strong determination. She obviously was committed with going through on this conversation.

"Harry" she said, picking her words carefully. "If you had the opportunity to change everything, make it so things worked out differently during the war, would you take it?"

* * *

 _Thanks for Reading!_

 _If you made it this far, I would appreciate taking some time to leave a review. Particularly if you can point out any problems you see. This is my first fanfiction attempt, and indeed my first creative writing piece in a long time (I'm mostly technical writing). I was never a fan of writing in school, particularly the stuff like grammar and spelling (yuck)._

 _I'll take comments on anything. Flow, plot, spelling, character inconsistencies, lore issues. I have thick skin, Lay it on!_


	2. Chapter 2: Acceptance

Chapter 2: Acceptance

 _Note/Warning: This chapter contains references/descriptions related to a suicide.  
_

Harry sat back, digesting what Hermione had just said. His thoughts ran wild. _Change everything? Time Magic maybe?._ That was a disturbing thought. Harry had dealt with many lessons in Time Travel over his years. The first was taught by the very witch sitting in his kitchen. Bad things happen to wizards who mess with time.

A million questions flew through Harry's head. What had she been working on? What was her eventual goal. Would he be ok with the past changing? Did he want it bad enough to give up what he had for it?

Harry snorted _What you have? You live in a hellhole of a muggle house, cut off by the wizarding world by your own hand, all of your friends driven off…._

Harry looked at Hermione. _Well not all your friends._ She looked terrified. She must be taking his muffled snort the wrong way. How long had seen been working on this project? Why would she be scared? He had already said he would not report her.

No, Hermione was not worried about him reporting her. She was worried he would reject her. He had seen this before. The point where the burden of secrecy had become so great that being revealed would become a relief. Bloody Hell, how long had seen been living under this? For this project to be weighing on her so, it must have been going on for a long time.

And she thought he might reject her. Foolish, after all they had been through. Harry would follow her into the very gates of hell. She knew that. Still, fear could be irrational at times. First things first, got to snap her out of it.

"Hermione. HERMIONE! It's ok. I'm not going to bite your head off." he said, making sure to keep eye contact. "Will you stop looking like an abused kitten expecting to get kicked?"

Hermione gave him a strange look, then surprisingly, she let out a small giggle. Immediately, she looked horrified, clasping her hands to her face, as if they could somehow re-catch the offending noise. Harry snorted. Well at least she still had her humor, even if it was deeply buried.

"So Time Travel? Have you found a way to boost power to a Time Turner?" Harry asked. He admitted to being curious: A wizard's control over time had always been haphazard. He didn't know the theoretical details, but the department rarely had to deal with temporal issues spanning more than a year.

"Not… quite." Hermione responded. Then she turned the tables "Answer my question first. If you had the power, would you change things?"

Harry decided to treat this like it was a thought experiment. Sitting at the table, he took a few moments to compose his thoughts. Did he wish the past could be different? Yes, oh yes. Everything had fallen apart so spectacularly. How much would he be willing for it to get worse though? He knew what would have happened if Tom had won. What few happy moments he and his friends had would have been denied. And if he had been given the choice to go into the past and change things? Harry doubted he would take that. Reliving those years knowing how things were going to turn out would be a very special form of torture indeed.

He did his best to explain his views to Hermione. It took a while, but they had time, and he knew he would be rewarded with the details of what Hermione was working on. When he had finished, she began to reciprocate.

She had been working on this for years. It started out as an investigation into the magics behind time-travel and artifacts such as the Time Turner. It turns out that temporal theory strictly limited what could be done with time-travel. Try to go too far and fabric of time would refuse to mold around the wound. If the witch attempting this was very lucky all that would be claimed by the failure would be the magics put into the casting. The other likely outcomes started out grim and went downhill from there.

Theoretically the maximum time that could be traveled was a bit over eleven years. However, no wizard had ever been able to get anywhere close to that. Most time travel as practiced today was on the order of hours or days. With good planning and training, a competent witch could travel a couple of months. The world record was held by a wizard from the 1300's, who had successfully traveled a year and a half into his past.

So Hermione had started looking into other rituals that had temporal effects, to see if there was a way around the natural limitations of the time-travel magic. She had….

Wait. Wait wait wait. How long exactly had she working on this? If she had been only trying to go back a few years, Hermione would've hunkered down and found a way to extend the time magic closer to its theoretical maximum. The Brightest Witch of her Age could of easily beaten the previous record.

Warning bells were going off in Harry's head. Warning bells that had been drilled in during his Auror training. Even if Harry hadn't been part of the group that investigated illegal temporal events, he knew Aurors who were and the type of cases they handled. The most likely candidate for attempting to illegally travel back in time had to do with parents whose children had committed suicide.

Harry didn't know how far down the list spouses of suicide victims were, but he can't imagine they were that low. Harry knew what he had to ask, no matter how painful it might be.

"Hermione, when did you start looking into this? Is this about Ron? I know how hard it is to have your family leave you. You know I know. But time travel isn't the solution. You know that" Harry waited, hoping this wasn't all just a hail mary to revive her dead husband.

Hermione paused at that, having to readjust away from her 'explain all the research mode' back into reality. She blinked a few times, then responded. "No no. I mean yes, I started looking into time travel soon after Ron died, it was a way to try to cope. I had to try to be doing something!" She bit her lip, "That isn't what this is anymore. It hasn't been for a long time. I grieved. I moved on."

Hermione was crying. She looked as if she was trying to stop, but the tears just kept flowing. "Besides Harry, that doesn't work anyway. It's… not really described well in the literature, but there is ample evidence to support that trying to change time to stop someone from killing themselves never turns out well."

Hermione let out a small, forced laugh "It's corny and anthropomorphizes death, but the saying 'Death doesn't like to be cheated' has a certain amount of validity. Trying to stop a death generally results in fate snapping back, causing even worse turmoil. There seems to be an exception surrounding events that fall into a stable time loop, but they are an exception, not the rule." Hermione fidgeted, obviously reluctant to bring up the next topic. "It is why the first rule of time travel is not to be seen. If you are not seen, you greatly increase your chances of not interfering with yourself going back into the past. You are much more likely to fall into a stable time loop if you don't interfere with yourself traveling back in time."

Harry gave her a look, and Hermione rewarded him with a stoic gaze. It was really quite disturbing, with the tears she had been crying still on her cheek. "Really Harry, I've accepted Ron's death. That isn't what this is about. This is about everyone. Ron, Neville, Luna, Teddy…. you" Hermione looked as if she was uncertain if she could continue, but when Harry didn't break in, she did. "Harry you know your reaction after Ron passed on was a lot more intense than mine was. This is about more than that."

Harry froze, his mind going back to a past he had blocked out.

* * *

 _It was immediately after the fall of the dark lord. There was many merriments and celebrations, that one Harry Potter desperately tried to avoid. Despite his vehement protests, he was unable escape them completely. An awards ceremony at the Ministry, organized to help shore up support for Minister Shacklebolt's government. A show of support for the remaining Hogwarts professors, who were desperately trying to figure out how to restart the school before the next year. Funerals for friends who were also now war heroes._

 _Harry wanted nothing more than to retreat to his life, and finally close the book on the story of the boy who lived. Still, he found himself at one event or another, forced to allow the grateful population a chance thank their savior._

 _Harry was in hell._

 _At one of the many nameless events, he was approached by an man asking if he could give him a gift. This wasn't unusual, he got half a dozen of them at most of the events. Even the funerals. Harry thought that was odd, but the wizarding world apparently had a thing about giving magical trinkets that one had enchanted oneself as a gesture of goodwill._

 _Harry was having them sent to Grimmauld Place. Maybe one day he would care to dig through them. Maybe when he was explaining his youthful exploits to his children. This had become routine for him: He held out his hand to accept whatever trinket this man wished to use to thank him for vanquishing the dark lord._

 _The man wasn't old or haggard by any means, but he did have a scrawny look to him. It took Harry by complete surprise when the man, showing more dexterity than he would've estimated by looking at him, planted his fingers onto Harry's temple. Harry wore a look of complete shock, but didn't feel threatened. The man didn't have his wand out, wasn't of physically intimidating stature, and some of the many faceless ministry men who were tasked with observing him did not seem to be making a ruckus. And then suddenly Harry was somewhere else._

* * *

 _Harry was standing at King's Cross Station. He saw himself, older and with an arm around what looked like an older Ginny Weasley. They seemed to be leading a young boy pushing a trunk toward Platform 9 and ¾. On the other side of Harry was a girl. She didn't have her own trunk, and looked to be a few years younger than the boy._

 _Then he heard a familiar voice. He turned around and saw Hermione. She looked different, but there was no mistaking it was her. By her side was... Ron. It had to be Ron. He was different, it looked as if his gluttony had caught up with him, for he no longer retained his scrawny boyhood character. But there is no-one else he could be. Between them was a young girl, looking to be the same age as the boy who was by Harry's side. As the two groups met up, they chatted gaily, as if all was right in the world._

 _And, Harry supposed, it was._

 _Harry had left the event in tears. While this had horrified the crowd of well-wishers who had been crowding around him, Harry hardly noticed them._

 _Harry had spent his entire life under the auspices of a prophecy. One that had defined him. It had demanded much of him. He had to send himself, his friends, into harm's way to meet the demands of fate. He was a child of prophecy, and fate demanded that he dance to its tune. Now, however, he was seeing a glimpse of the future that did not demand a trial of him. He had danced to fate's tune long enough, and fate had seen fit to reward him the future he longed for. A family, a place to belong to. Close friends who he didn't have to send into harm's way just because they were his friends. A place in the world that didn't involve being the boy who lived._

 _Harry never got to thank the old man properly, but in all of the gifts and letters he had_ _received, this one had been the most welcome._

* * *

 _Harry had been in the office when he had heard the news. He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible. They all had problems getting over the demons of the war, but they were making progress. Harry couldn't say his relationship with Ginny was all doves and roses, but he was working on it. He knew what was possible, and put his entire being into making that future happen. He made time to see his friends, even when the office was swamped with casework. He was on the way to the vision he had seen._

 _And then it was all gone in an instant. It had taken the aurors a while to figure out what had happened, they were not familiar with muggle weapons. The wizarding world didn't have a saying similar to 'blowing ones brains out'. Suicides were usually handled by a wizard casting_ Avada Kedavra _on himself or, for those who didn't dabble in the dark arts till the end, a cutting curse followed by the wizard bleeding out._

 _This wouldn't do for Ron though. He had got his hands on a muggle revolver. No-one quite knew how, but suspicions went toward Author's collection of muggle artifacts. It wasn't brought up in front of him of course, but where else would he of procured such a tool?_

 _It had been after a fight with Hermione. It wasn't a major fight, something silly over nothing. Hermione had left to get some air and cool down. When she returned, she found Ron in their kitchen. He had left a note, but it simply said "_ I'm sorry, I can't keep doing this anymore _"_

 _The suicide shocked the world. One of the hero's of the war, taking his own life? It shouldn't have, of course. Harry knew they were all having dreams. Of the battles. Of those they had killed. But Ron had always seemed immune to it all. He would handle it in his own way, which usually involved becoming overly obstinate about something or another. But the truth was, he was just as affected as any of them. But unlike Harry or Neville or Hermione, he was never able to voice his concerns to others. Even after he and Hermione were married they still never really discussed the war. Hermione would discuss it with Harry or some of the doctors at her office, but never with Ron._

 _Hermione blamed herself at first, of course. After all, they had just fought. Harry knew he should be beside her, helping her cope. But he couldn't. He was in a pit of raw hatred and agony._

 _He hated Ronald Weasley. It was stupid, he knew. He had taken enough divination to know the differences between a prophecy and a vision. Prophecies were spoken, vague things that bound to the strings of fate themselves. They were necessarily broad, as to not overly infringe on the free will of the people they describe. And they were always true. Visions however, were seen, not spoken. And they were not bound to the strings of fate. A seer's vision showed a potential future, but did not promise it would come to pass. It is merely one of the likely possibilities that could come out of the current circumstances._

 _The vision he had seen was just that, a potential future. Harry knew it was never promised, and it was not Ron's fault it did not come to pass. Still, Harry hated Ron for keeping it from happening. Until he died, it was still possible he would see that world from the vision he had so longed for. All the fights, all the political failures, everything he had struggled through... it all meant nothing._

 _Harry knew he had to pull himself together. To go to Hermione and help her get through this trying time. He also knew he couldn't show himself while he was fuming like this. So Harry disappeared to try to calm the flames. It was not to be however. He had danced to fates tune so long, he deserved his reward. And Ron had made it so it could never happen._

 _It had taken Harry over a month to rebuild himself to the point he could return to work. The Harry who returned was not the same at the one who had left. He had been permanently changed, the light in his eyes had gone out._

 _It was ironic really. If he had managed to stay on the path to the vision, he would be sending his children to Hogwarts this fall. Instead, he lived alone in the Dursley house, hoping something, anything could help him escape the his haunted past. Fate had seen fit to retract the reward it had offered him, and so he chose to leave the wizarding world, and its magical prophesies and visions behind._

* * *

Hermione saw Harry freeze, retreating into the depths of his memory. _You stupid girl, you know better than to bring this up_ came the thought. Most of the wizarding world thought it was the Longbottom assassination that had caused the withdrawal of the vanquisher of the dark lord from the world of magic. Hermione knew better. Harry's investigation into Neville's death and his inability to solve the case might have been the event that finally pushed him away from the wizarding world, but it wasn't the cause.

In many ways, Harry had been more deeply affected by her husband's death than she had. She had mourned, of course. She had blamed herself for their fight, wondered how he could do this to her, and finally accepted it. Harry had been changed, he was never quite the man she knew before his death.

It wasn't really fair. She was the widow, he should have been there to help her through it. It hadn't mattered though. She knew as soon as she saw him that it was bad. Very bad. Once she had gotten through the worst of it herself she had wanted to be there for him so they could get through it together. She had always hoped he would open up to her about what had happened to him in that month after Ron had died. He never did, and everyone once in awhile he retreated into his head when reminded of it. She could talk to him about the effects of Ronald's suicide on her or her friends, but he couldn't open up about his own response.

She did, however, know the best way to handle it when he fell into this particular memory. Bringing attention to it would just make it worse, for whatever hole in his head he had entered contained a good helping of self-loathing. Instead it was best to simply ignore it and continue on. That would drag Harry back into the present and force him to confront more modern issues.

"Harry, this isn't like that. I went through the denial phase after Ron died, and I looked into time magic like a lot of others. But it doesn't work, and I was smart enough to realize it early. Still, it was an interesting concept, and I kept looking into it, even after…." She paused, looking Harry in the eyes and making sure he was following her. Her voice seemed to be coaxing him out of whatever daze he had fallen into. "I eventually started researching other rituals that had temporal effects but didn't work like the time turner." Hermione bit her lip again. "I eventually found one that… has some interesting effects."

Harry finally spoke. "If it isn't time magic, then why all of the cloak and dagger. Very few magical fields are so heavily regulated. Time Magic, Blood Magic, the Dark Arts … there are only a few fields that cause such concern.

Hermione shook her head "No, it doesn't come under any of the standard dangerous magical areas. But the ministry has apparently made a very special case for this magic. You can't find references for it anywhere in standard texts. Only very old texts that have somehow eluded ministry scrutiny even mention it, and then only in passing."

Harry broke in "Then it shouldn't be a big deal. Beyond the banned arts, the ministry usually takes a long leash on exploration of other magical areas. They might censor items they find dangerous, or discourage general research, but as long as no-one is harmed they take a hands-off approach." Harry knew there was more to this than it seemed. The look Hermione gave him all but confirmed it.

Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Harry, they consider this on the same level as large-scale involuntary blood magic." she winced "They consider it potentially genocidal"

Harry looked like he was having a hard time digesting that. Suddenly he did something completely unexpected.

Harry laughed.

And not just a small chuckle. A deep, penetrating laughter.

"Harry Potter, what are you laughing at!" Hermione huffed. "Nothing about this is funny"

"It's just that…. the concept of Hermione, queen champion of lost causes, intentionally doing anything genocidal, or even potentially genocidal, is ridiculous" Harry responded, reeling in his laughter. Harry expected a smile to crack across Hermione's lips at that. Instead, she just looked tired.

"You have no idea how close I have come" Hermione whispered.

Harry's mirth was suddenly gone. Hermione sighed, and decided to continue instead of forcing him to ask the obvious follow up questions. "It's been hard Harry. The collapse of the Shacklebolt reforms and the Longbottom assassination were just the beginning. Luna fled the country because of that damned seer registration act. Various marriage and family bonding acts relating to muggleborns have almost passed…."

"Wait, that close?" Harry cut in. He knew she was having a rough time in politics, but he had figured it has only been delays in the inevitable Granger reformations that were coming. He hadn't realized how close they they were coming to backsliding. "What about our allies? Would they have really supported such actions against war heros"

A nasty scowl spread over Hermione's face. It could have done Professor Snape justice. "Our 'allies' are the ones pushing for these laws Harry!" She allowed a moment for the flash of shock to appear then fade from Harry's face. She had kept him up to date on her work in the ministry, but it seems he hadn't realized the full ramifications of those events. "Most of them were never really friendly to begin with. Even during the war. Sure, they were against Tom. But it was naive to assume that meant they wanted reform. The true reformers were targeted without mercy during the last two blood wars, there are very few of them left. Most of our 'friends' are supporters of the wizarding family way of thinking. They don't want any sneaky muggle ideas creeping." She signed "Most of the hard-core supporters of blood purity are gone too, but the concept of human wizarding blood, and its superiority, has never been stronger".

Hermione could see the Harry was having a problem grasping how it was different from the blood supremacists. She should have spent more time informing him on the infighting. Harry rarely got interested in her political lectures unless it was related to one of the few remaining pure-blood purists left in politics. "Harry, the last bonding act wasn't about putting muggleborn in their place, it was about forcing everyone to fit into the patriarchal, feudal system that exists. It would have required all muggleborns to essentially be adopted by a nobel house, giving them a head of house to make decisions for them. Not only do they not mind if half-breeds are part of wizarding families, they want to enforce it. Bring the magical creatures under the control they know. As long as they restrict the families to be headed by wizards who have grown up in the wizarding world and not raised in an external culture, whether muggle or magical creature, they are satisfied. They aren't blood purists, but they don't want to modernize either."

"That bill failed by a single vote. The only reason it didn't pass was because some of the old blood supremacists who didn't want to have to dilute their blood by letting muggleborns in. I've been holding the reform movement together by the narrowest margin, and most of the wizards winning to consider reform are not willing to state so publicly." Hermione had to hold back tears "I'm so alone Harry. All of our friends are dead or have left. The new ones I made are friends of convenience. Sure, they are not going to try to catch me in the law. I'm a war hero after all. Same is true for Luna. But they would of gone after her kids if she stayed Harry."

Hermione could see Harry wanted to comfort her. Let her know that she had him. The sentiments died on his lips. They both knew it was untrue. He had left. Harry wasn't the sort to try to comfort her with falsities.

"I've considered the… alternative means at change." Hermione winced. "Tearing it all down and building something new. I'm one of only three muggle-born in the ministry Harry. That is lower than the level during the blood war. There are a lot of discontented people out there Harry, they just don't hold any of the reigns of power. I could of been able to do it you know. Well, I might of needed some help"

She saw Harry glow at the assumption that he would be behind her if she tried something so crazy. She always knew he would. If she called, he would have come. Of course, she would have consulted with him before taking such rash action. That was how their relationship worked.

"I couldn't do it. It would have been bloody Harry. It'd be our own style French revolution. It is the only way it would work. There is just too much ingrained into the existing system, you would have to burn it down and start again." Hermione looked tormented once again. "And there are so few wizards of age. It was only recently we really started to see regular class levels coming out of Hogwarts." she paused "It would of been the kids fighting Harry. There is no other possibility. There just isn't enough seniority left for it to be hidden from them. It would be worse than the blood wars." Shuttering, she continued "Just thinking about it conjures up memories of the Battle of Hogwarts. It would be kids against parents. The families vs everyone. We'd probably see multiple factions".

In a soft voice "I just couldn't do it Harry. I just couldn't". And then "So I worked on my side project. It isn't time travel: the perils there are just too high. So I found an alternative".

* * *

Hermione bent over to take out a notebook. The notebook was packed, what few pages Harry could see were covered with small, neat research notes. Inserts had been placed every couple pages, photo's of books or locations with detailed notes written on them. She placed it in front of him, as if it would answer all of his questions.

"What is that Hermione?" he asked. Harry was sure he would be able to understand what was written in the notebook. If he was given a year. Or two. Or maybe a team of research assistants.

"Details on a ritual I found. It isn't time travel exactly, and thus is able to get around a lot of the restrictions. It is umm. I guess you could call it answering a call to the past." Harry was obviously not any more enlightened, so she tried again. "Look, you know how time travel works right? Someone from one point in time initiates an event somewhere back in the timestream. That is what makes is so volatile. The initiation point is far away from where changes were being made."

"So if it was initiated from the past, you could avoid the problems?" Harry was beginning to comprehend. "But if you invented a ceremony that requires someone from the past to initiate it, how does that help? You might be able to call the future, but isn't the past closed off to us?"

The smile on Hermione's face was downright terrifying. "That is the brilliant part Harry. This is not a new ceremony. It has been around for a long time. The ministry has done their best to remove all mention of it, but the thrice-damned wizard family government structure means they missed a lot of them. There has to be some scion of an ancient and powerful house who tried to call the future. All we have to do is answer him". The smile faded from her face "Well, and figure out how to get around the safety restrictions on the original ceremony that keep the summoned called from doing something against the intentions of the summoner". She pointed to a section at the back of the notebook "Those are my thoughts on the matter. It'll help if the ceremony was performed by someone with a low-level of skill. It will allow us to overpower their will and attempt to make our own changes in the past."

After a moment, Harry nodded and got up. He turned to his kitchen and began to brew a pot of tea. Hermione sat quietly, she could basically see the gears turning in his head. After he had finished his task, he returned to the table, replacing the empty cocoa cups with a fresh cup of tea.

The chatted about the possibility of this spell. The ritual for calling the future was undetectable, and known by several old wizarding families. Both sides of the ritual could put restrictions on the other side. It was impossible to know if there were any matched for your criteria without trying it first.

Unfortunately, the ritual to respond was not undetectable. Hermione didn't know exactly what kind of response the ministry would send, but it was sure to be unpleasant. Rationally, it was an overreaction. Either they existed as a projection cast by the spell in the past, or they did not. Logic was never one of the strong suits of wizardingkind, and instead it was treated as if casting the ritual somehow wiped out the validity of their existence. At any rate, her life as she knew it would be over. This would burn all remaining bridges she had left. If she failed in her attempt, she would be arrested and thrown in jail.

But if she succeeded, it wouldn't matter. She could fix things. Make it better. She had to believe she could do this. It was the only thing holding back the crushing despair that surrounded her.

At the end of this discussion, Harry had gone silent. Then, finally, he said two words, with a confidence she had not heard from him in ages.

"I'm in."

* * *

 _I have thick skin, please send any problems you see my way. I will fix them!_


End file.
